Diary of Mischief
by Jincy le Fou
Summary: Mercutio's POV of all that happens in Romeo and Juliet; an English assignment that I'd like more review on than from my teacher.
1. First Entries

I don't own Romeo and Juliet, nor any of the character mentioned in the following.  
This day is the first act of many.  
  
Early-Summer 1506  
  
Tis just another day in my drab, boring life. Romeo has gone off again, pining for "sweet" Rosaline, who, with my support, shan't give Romeo the time of day. It makes me laugh-really-should I pity him? .His being my friend and all.maybe.nah, not my style at all. Maybe there was a problem with me and not him, eh? Enough about Romeo, he's not my concern. That Tybalt, however, is beyond my concern and in many more ways than one would think. To anyone but, say, Benvolio, Tybalt is nothing more than a common villain in my eyes. He's a fancy-talking bastard; a wicked and thoroughly tormented Soul who'd rather go out and fight than take a maiden to bed. On that last bit, he gets my praises for as any should or would know, by the tip of my rapier women come and go. There is something I harbor in the depths of mine tempted heart when I see dearest Tybalt. Hmm.imagine the fancy the guys would have hearing about this. dare I say infatuation? Am I any better than that damnéd Romeo who would wander the Earth in the name of Rosaline? My candle doth grow low and the candle flickers like a timid heartbeat or maybe it is just my Heart breathing in the fire.  
  
Same acts of Thought  
  
So, it appears I cannot for the life of me actually fall asleep. Is it that I am so full with words at the moment and there's no one around for me to assail them with? Oy.there might be some tonic 'round here for me.but where am I to find an apothecary at this hour? I might as well recall the day a bit more. Well, with my trusted friends Romeo and Benvolio we went to a party. This wasn't just any party, dearest, t'was a Capulet party! Anyone who's anyone and even anyone who isn't knows that Montagues and Capulets don't associate with a brandished sword. I must say though, they've got daft servants to deliver their letters. He needed Romeo to read it for him! Romeo was reluctant on going, but I, Master of Words, did beseech him come and he did. I must say, for a woman who denounces love, Rosaline is rather pretty. She surely is not the Sun to the Earth or the loveliest rose in the bush but that's because my fancy does not lie with women. I would think Romeo had come to see her.but the lad was gone! Cowering in a corner I suppose-what women do to him is so damned shameful. There might've been a fight tonight (that Tybalt.again) had Master Capulet not prevented it. It may have been more entertaining.  
  
Second Act to the First  
  
Summer Evening -1506  
  
.About Romeo: Do you know the lad disappeared into the night? He's probably roaming the woods or the meadows, cradling a basket of Rosemary and calling for Rosaline. I wonder if this "love" he so seeks give him a defiant strength-for when Ben and I approached the youth, he took off running and bounded over the Capulet orchard wall in their territory. If he gets caught- they'll kill him. He must know better.  
  
Honestly, why do I think so much? The moon is high and I can only wonder where Romeo is and if poor Benvolio is tearing out his hair in anticipation of his return. Let him be caught-the fool! With his trying to conquer Venus, then I shall surely succeed him with the years of Life. I can tell ye right now where Venus's spiteful would-be captor doth lie! He leapt that orchard wall, and there, under the moon, glowing just as bright was the women he loves. She was out there for no real reason, merely admiring the night. Romeo, being frivolous and careful, waited patiently for her lips to part with the sound of his name. He bring not flowers or gems or money of any kind, but doth only offer himself. His Lover, being equally shocked and well offended would storm back into her room where she would brood-knowing she doth not want our poor ill-fated Messenger gone. She'll come back out and demand what he's doing in her orchard-on her family's land-for they will kill him if found he to be a Montague. He'll say if nothing but Death he can receive from her, then it a lovely and worthy token of her appreciation. He'll climb the orchards and swoon her with melodies and songs and words that would dumbfound the Anti-Venus. She in turn, will say his name like no other and henceforth it shall proceed. Ah, if only Rosaline were to be so kind as to give him a look that did not scorn his better person-that choppéd down his manhood. If only she might hold him and not let him leave till I am well asleep and the sun doth rise. If only Tybalt is not roaming their grounds in drunken fury and raises his sword at the sight of Romeo-proclaiming him "fair game" and slaughter him in the peak of his minutes with is Love. Heh. What kind of wicked temptress would provoke such actions upon a man she doth nor care for much less love?  
  
Tis the night after the night before and what a day I've had! Some old, plump, puff of woman came seeking Romeo! My, oh, my-had that been the true Rosaline. Before Romeo had even showed up, looking of the disoriented nature, I was discussing Tybalt again to Benvolio with the same emotion as my first script. I may have confused him, which only makes me his better at word and swordplay. He is not nearly as good at banter with me such as Romeo or even villainous Tybalt. That nurse though, bothers me.had Romeo truly gone now to take a Capulet under his arm? Oh, woeful days filled with scandalous stories. Romeo always produces a fine laughter on my part. 


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own any of the characters used; sorry for not updating sooner; in RL I got a B.  
  
Another Day with the Secondary Acts of Torment Summer morning-1506 still For only having written three days straight, I no longer wake restlessly, with the thoughts from the night before reeling in my head, demanding they be intentioned with my acknowledgement! I write early, for today will be a day of days! I will do as Romeo and proclaim my "Love" to that one that my eyes linger on and my mind is so set on. It is time to head out and with my rapier; I christen this day to be my happiest yet. Summer evening Re-reading that first bit, I have to laugh at myself. "This day to be my happiest"?! What nonsense, utter and foolish and having not securer footing than a half-built ladder! If anything "good" 'append to day, it was Romeo's fighting for me. The pacifist dropped that performance and brandished a sword rather justly. I do but get ahead of myself, for to you who do not know, I am dead. A grave man to be in but a few hours. I was neither Montague nor Capulet but here I am, dead because of it. I could blame Romeo-for he is the one that tried to stop my fighting of Tybalt and with such an opportunity, Tybalt doth struck me in a tormenting place-my chest, inches from my heart. No one but I noticed this, no one, not even Romeo-for after I'd been struck, Tybalt's eyes widened and they filled with panic and, daresay, tears. Tyrants do not cry, not that I know of. Why would he? After that, he fled with his bloodied sword and Romeo thought all was well. Hah. I cursed their houses, for I am of Royal Blood and the Prince, my own cousin, will be most displeased though this be some fault of mine own. Once I was tended to in house near, Benvolio did tell Romeo my predicament and his soul did tear. That damned Tybalt, foolish in thought, returned; but why I wonder? With a bravado matching mine own he insulted both Romeo and me and they fought. All through the streets of that city I dared called home; they fought-as citizens and travelers alike watched the spectacle in awe. Well, it was Romeo who bested that fair Tybalt who lay on the cobblestone ground, Life left his cheeks and as I watched Romeo cried out in anguish and fled the scene. So, in my Happiest Day, I am slain and so is my love. If only our personalities were not so conflicting, if our tongues could be held for I do know what he felt, for he told me in short phrase ages ago. Yet, why and how I could still deem dear Romeo my friend and would not put him under Tybalt, well, that's where the fight between we started. A Lover's Spat, I think they call it? The prince does decree Romeo's banishment and as I graced the clouds I doth seen Romeo in the arms of fairer Juliet, who like Rosaline, is a Capulet! So, it was not Rosaline those nights ago.and I must say that I do like the sound of Romeo and Juliet far more than Romeo and Rosaline. Thrice the Act in the summer 1506 Night of Death There are 'vantages of being dead that no one every mentioned. A little graveside humor for myself. I find many errors when re-reading this journal. Upon my third page, I failed to mention that I was up many hours sitting and contemplating my Death. Why am I still in Verona-and if I'm here, then.where be Tybalt. If not together in Life, then surely Death- wishful thinking from a man, in his best suit, lying in a dark, damp dead catacomb. Aye, back on the 'vantages of being dead. You can travel into anyone's house you please! No one sees you, there are those who sense you- being of holy nature-and condemn your soul, but apart from that, all is well! What estate do I stumble upon but that of fair Juliet? When you're a spirit, you can feel people and there was the most unpleasant feeling coming from her. Her feelings tore at me and reached into the depths of my stomach only to reveal that I am not a mere shell of myself as I was-I'm still very much alive! I think so anyway. In my Chamber Mother was grieving almost as bad as Juliet. Though, I know Juliet does not grieve for me and I don't expect her too. She has that family of hers confused enough-they think she mourns Tybalt as they do. If they only knew the truth. I may be one to shoot off at the mouth, but it takes no time to figure out what was going on-besides, listening to that Friar as he mutters and plods along always helps. Yes, so the old conniver married those two kids. Everyone sing your praises of Love conquering Hate because it really only gets worse after this. Through Juliet's sobs and salty eyes, I got that they had not actually been married long before mine own demise, much less Tybalt. Romeo and Tybalt were related! I wonder if he ever planned on telling me; I would've told him about Tybalt in more detail had I the chance. You know that there's a loathsome, filthy, wretch of county after Romeo's wife? Goes by the name of Paris, he does, the rogue. My rapier is of little use now that I'm gone-but I'd slay him in the name of Romeo. I can feel love emitting from this Paris, but I don't know what it's for-Juliet or her monument! He's to marry her, he is.if only I could find Romeo and tell him of this. It would have to be to be through paper, for speaking to communicating with the Living is like a cat speaking to an owl. Aye, the wedding is in but a day or so-hey, remember us? There are some guys that just died over here! We're dead and the Capulets seem not care. There's something in the air, and it isn't this pointless candles Mother put in here in my "memory"-it is either someone or something approaching. Something is happening that those people cannot see! My heart goes out to Juliet and it must be solely because I am Death's Pet because otherwise, I would not care for the moon. 


	3. The Finale

I do not own the characters as usual. Please read and review; I think I'll continue the Mercutio diary-before all this Romeo and Juliet madness. Fourth of mine Death Summer in Verona 1506 Well, if that don't beat all! Someday, that will be a famous saying and who ever finds this can say a dead guy made it up! I'm happier than usual-for one who lacks Life-for now I had found him. Another 'venture into the Estate of Capulet and who did I see waiting patiently and confusédly but dear Tybalt! He saw me, and his hand strayed from the hilt of his sword as he rushed to me. He gripped my shoulders and then my face and well.you fill in the rest, knave. After I reunited myself with Tybalt and we strode calmly through those Verona streets into my chamber, Tybalt rests now, waiting for Mother to come in so he can wave a candle in her face. On the other hand, Tybalt is not the only one who is mischievous. That Friar Laurence has a trick up his sleeve and I know it-I was listening too hard to not know. That Juliet is babbling on and on about Death as though he isn't lurking in the shadows on her manor! He is but waiting for the opportunity to trip her on her climb up or more likely downstairs. Anyway, Paris is but waiting for the day when Juliet will be his maiden. That should be in about a day if something doesn't happen. I really think------------------ Eve of the Maiden So, it's far later now than before. Tybalt snatched this leather keeper from me and began reading it. His eyes widened and closed, he laughed and sighed. After that we were just together. It was like sleeping but without doing so.it was lovely. As I was saying before, Friar is intoxicating that Juliet because she would jump into Death's arms and not Paris's. Paris understands something to be wrong with Juliet's weeping, but I take him to be too daft to realize what's going on 'round him. I'd give him pity if I cared enough. In her chamber was Juliet, alone after sending her mother and Nurse away. She began vocalizing her fears of what she intended to do but did it anyway. The wench drank some kind of concoction that does but tempt Death and slay her family and Paris's hearts. It is intended that in the 48 hours coming, this tonic will wear off and she will awaken in the Tomb of Capulets to find both Romeo and Friar waiting to whisk her off to Mantua (where Romeo does reside, I think I shall go there). Oh, the look of anguish when those Capulets saw their daughter slain by nothing but her own hand. They blamed Tybalt's death for it-which he so justly scoffed whilst putting his arm around my neck. Tybalt and I head for Mantua in but a few hours to see dear Romeo and what hath become of him. If he has gone mad, then Death be swift; if he be plotting, then may Venus finally smile upon his efforts. Five Acts of Injustice Summer morning1506 Aye, what a day! What a day, indeed, and it isn't over, much less begun. I'm traveling to Mantua at the moment to see poor Romeo and see his humor. Tybalt, being family-conscious, stayed here to look over fairest Juliet. Before I left, there was a moment between we two and we joined as hands do for prayer. Another 'vantage of being dead-you can walk and write at the same time because you really aren't walking.you kind of float or fly, if you choose. I still wonder what keeps me here and why I do not see other Spirits among the clouds with me. Maybe purgatory got the best of them yet. What's all this then? I just passed a grave-looking Friar trying to make passage into Mantua. For whatever reasons, another Friar and, daresay, soldiers refuse them passage! Hah! Why must he get to Mantua in such a hurry anyway.? That Friar was not Laurence so I do not see the connection, unless all Holy Men have a connection I do not yet know of. Ah, there be Mantua! It's been minutes already and I do not for the Life of me see that scamp Romeo! Hopefully, he did not take upon himself his woman's words and strip himself of his own! Heh, there's that Balthasar.never fancied the lad- a bit too irrational for me. He never wanted to hear the rest of the story or even know what was going on.whenever he spoke, it was impulsive and incomplete. I can tell, just by lowly Romeo's face, that this is the case. Back in Verona Summer Midday I fear the worst hath stricken Romeo. Why not the plague? Oh, why not! But no, the lad has lost it. He's been stricken with the Balthasarian Illness! He is irrational and impulsive, questions nothing of any events but listens to himself and he heeds no one but himself. He senses me, but even so, he does not wish to believe himself Lunacy's puppet enough to listen to me! I stood right behind him as he spoke to an apothecary, provoking the poor bastard do sell him a poison. As Romeo would not listen, I tried reasoning with the apothecary, standing in his ear and saying, "Don't do it-you know it's wrong.don't think in your purse, fine man, use your head! Look at this lad! He's gone mad! Stricken with an illness that cannot be cured by you nor any tonic!" I repeated myself, which only gave the man more will, but sure enough, Romeo bested him and got his liquid Death. Romeo must not be as insane as methinks, for he scorned the medicine man for selling the tonic to him. Said something about money being a worse poison upon the Soul of men.why cannot he realize this himself! Summer day  
  
On my way to Verona, I am filled with thoughts and enough anger to trick myself into believing Life still cradles me. Alas, that be nary the case for I am dead as dead and no one is listening. The Friars did have a plan, they spoke true, now that Romeo hath disappeared, and they know not what to do. Quarantine made that Friar I spoke of, John, I believe, as dead as me for no listened or cared. On my way to meet Tybalt, whom do I see but that knave Paris at the Capulet monument with some boy? Paris does beseech this boy wait as he descended towards the tomb. The boy did voice his fears only to be assailed royally with the words of the county. With a haughty last word, he descended and I waited for him to come back-if he planned to. This Paris must have cared for her, that Juliet, or he would go find another bride. There might be many a maiden apt to latch on to his arm. With a whistle did Paris's boy fled and who does approach? 'Tis lad Romeo and his irrational man-and they did come prepared for a break in. The Illness still strong in his face, Romeo bid that Balthasar stay and with words of anger and vengeance did he descend into the mouth of death. Summer evening I could not write nor barely speak, for the following events were quite bleak. They struck my own heart and kept moving, for it was not I, but the Lovers, who were losing. Romeo, in grave and desperate state, did give the County's death a noble fate. His silver stole life from this County, but Romeo is not callous, for he brought him to the tomb to claim him bounty. Ah, when Romeo did see that maiden of his love, his humor did change and all his thoughts, they began to rearrange. Without many frivolities and even less anguish, did he proclaim his Love once more? If hath he listened to me, he would have known Juliet to be alive as any dove in the air. For the mask she had put on from the inside was slowly peeling away to reveal a live being. Romeo thought nothing of this, but stroked his Love's hair once more and put his lips to hers. With another dialogue based on foolishness and illogical reasoning, the tonic did pass through his lips and I watched Death strike Life from him in one blow. Juliet did awaken moments after and the Friar did appear, calling her to take leave with him and become a Nun. Juliet did detest and refuse thy offer as the friar fled with such great an urgency that he could have been able to stop Romeo. With teasing words and a light heart did Juliet speak to her Romeo; trying to join him, she searched his lips for poison and found no. Her humor placed her eyes of Romeo's dagger and it is with that that she did join her husband. Then did arrive Paris's boy, a bit late and clumsily, toting with him the Watch. Upon the scene, their faces contorted and then did arrive mine own cousin, the Prince, and the Capulets. What did they think, now? Who knows? Who cares? For now, all but Benvolio have joined Tybalt and I. The Final Summer Day 1506 T'was a tragedy indeed, that the Friar could not get to Mantua by steed and that Romeo was too far lost to take any heed. Although, for mourning there is no need, for Romeo and Juliet have completed their own deed. They are together, right now as I write, playing with each other and acting as Lovers do. How strange that they be over their own funeral and act so gaily. Tybalt wishes I lay down my pen and act as they do, but I must allow these thoughts exodus to this paper or they will most certainly get the better of me. As the mounting grief gripped all in Verona, Romeo's dear mother approached us as we stood behind the large procession. Romeo, shocked thoroughly as we all, rushed to her and their arms embraced one another and then she left us. Where she is off to is very unsure to me as any. The Friar Laurence did speak his story to my cousin and those who listened kept control as the feelings around them flared wildly in such a great a mass of emotion I cannot separate anger from pity or grieving from anger. Friar Laurence does have a way with words, if I do say so myself. My cousin questioned his truth and then did see it to be clear as Balthasar declared it so-most likely on impulse. The Prince did grieve publicly for my own kin, Paris and me and with a final farewell did bid the Souls of Romeo and Juliet off. And so I myself leave until I feel driven to raise the quill again and slaughter paper with my assailment of terms as did Romeo and Juliet's dire Love. 


End file.
